


Never Been So Defenceless

by lamonnaie



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Melancholy, Phone Calls, Sad GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), dream comforts him, tbh can be read as platonic but i wrote it with a romantic relationship in mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29801469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamonnaie/pseuds/lamonnaie
Summary: Today was a day where all he wanted to do was sink into the Earth and never surface again, to decompose amongst the layers of foliage and dirt.So he went where he’d always go when it got this bad.To Dream.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 97





	Never Been So Defenceless

**Author's Note:**

> Ya local author is drained ahjsdshjdh  
> this fic was the result xD
> 
> Title from "Defenceless" by Louis Tomlinson.

_“I’m too tired to be tough, just wanna be loved by you.”_

It had come over George slowly, little trickles of it seeping into him throughout the day. The tiredness weighed him down, holding his bones hostage and making every task infinite times harder than it should be. What exactly was it? George wasn’t sure himself.

All he knew was that he’d woken up this morning feeling off, and that sensation had only amplified throughout the day, until all he could feel was how _heavy_ it all was. It had sucked all the emotions out of him, leaving his insides as nothing but a void, emptiness that extended in all directions.

George wished that there was a way to describe it. He didn’t feel pain, nor anger, nor any other fathomable feeling. Instead, it was something that sat deep within him, miniscule drips of the monster falling into the pit every few minutes, helping it expand in size until it had all but consumed George.

It was a lot, that was for sure. There were levels to this sort of feeling, George had found out after too many of these days. Sometimes, all he had to do was sleep a little, or eat something, or on the off chance even go for a run. But today wasn’t one of those days. Today was a day where all he wanted to do was sink into the Earth and never surface again, to decompose amongst the layers of foliage and dirt.

So he went where he’d always go when it got this bad.

To Dream.

Somehow, he just knew what was up the moment he picked up the call. It was as if they had a telepathic connection that spanned past several oceans, an invisible thread tying them together, keeping them on the same wavelength no matter what.

“Hey,” Dream let out, voice barely above a whisper.

George hummed in response. It was enough for Dream.

These calls didn’t happen often, but they happened enough for both of them to know the drill by now. Sometimes they’d just stay on call for hours, neither of them saying much, but each new second on the little call timer somehow soaking up the gunk welled inside of George, helping him breath a little easier. Other times, Dream would go about his day, telling George trivial stories that he’d either tuck away to come back to later, or miss completely. Dream knew of it, and he was fine with it. The comfort the other man’s voice provided would never fail to calm George.

On rare occasions, the call would start just like this one – the two of them in silence, not enough words within either of them that they deem worthy of exchanging. But soon, whether it be a minute or an hour later, George would burst. Everything that had piled up through the day – the indifference, the heaviness, the invisible pain – would come out in showers, drowning out any sound on either end but his heaving sobs. It seemed that today was one of those days.

And Dream, bless him, stays quiet throughout, letting the older man get everything out of his system, no matter how long it ends up taking. He doesn’t waste breath saying sweet nothings, they both know that his presence on the call amounts to more than anything he could say in those moments.

Because George isn’t vulnerable in front of many people. He likes to keep his cards close to his chest; sometimes so close that even he himself can’t catch sight of what’s on them. So when George finally lets the cards go, lets them all fall to the floor in a fluttering storm of paper and pain, Dream makes sure to let them stay on the ground. Not to spite George, nor to hurt him, but rather to give him some rest. After all, safeguarding his cards at each and every passing moment _must_ be a tiring job.

The sobs eventually wane into the occasional whimper, before ceasing completely. It’s only then that Dream will speak up.

“George,” he’ll say. It’s the same soft tone he uses at the start of these calls, a quiet utterance that emanates safety.

If the world worked how he’d want it to, George would take that tone and carry it around with him every day, his own personal reminder that others cared, that _Dream_ cared.

“I love you,” he’d continue. “And I’m _always_ here for you.”

At this point, Dream never expected a reply, nor did he necessarily want one. It was a blanket statement, one that had applied for as long as they’d known each other, and one that would still apply far into the future, when they were old and greying and these moments would happen in person, George huddled in Dream’s arms without half the globe separating them.

And if that wasn’t love, George didn’t know what was.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for readingg <3  
> My [tumblr](http://lamonnaie.tumblr.com) :)


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